Wartime tales
by QueenYoda
Summary: Different stories from various people involved Jedi, citizen, Sith and slave about the Clone war. Not very dark, but a bit depressing.


_**"Brother, brother, there are too many of us dying!"**_

-Marvin Gaye, 1939-1988

_The announcement:_

"We have just received news people, that the Supreme Chancellor has declared war on the seceded planets, now dubbed the System of independent nations…" Mace Windu turned it off, he used the force too, and he flicked the blasted data pad off with a simple sweep of his wrist. Sighing, he stared out of the council windows behind him, alone in the room, and watched the sun fall. They were going to war, the Jedi, generals in a war. Grieved, the force churning with unease and foreboding, he turned his back to the setting sun and began his work.

_The armies:_

Jedi were naturally bred generals. And the clones were naturally bred soldiers. It was in their blood, each trained and taught to perform these specific roles with ease. Yet as the universe watched, unknowing, the Jedi seemed less up to the task by the day. They seemed like impassive fools and small specks compared to the massive armies of the Separatists. It should have been an easy enough task, being as how everyone expected the war to end quickly underneath the Jedi council's ever heroic hand. But after the first few battles, when patriotism died underneath the falling bodies of Jedi and clones, it seemed less like the Jedi were such good leaders, and the clones weren't soldiers, but just walking carcass's.

_The numbered:_

Clone Trooper CC-246810 stood helpless in the village. Around him lay carnage, massacre, genocide of a people, not a cultural people who had a long and complicated history, were so important that, in extensive detail, they were mentioned even in the Jedi temple databanks. But they were still _a people_, his people, his brothers, all of them. Dead. He stared around numbly, despite the other survivors calling his name repeatedly. _They had names, you know_, he thought. _They had names, and people who loved them, not just numbers._ _We aren't just numbers._ He looked up at the sky above, the sun glinting off the hills to the north, ash still falling tenderly from the sky like snowflakes. _Even though our days are numbered._

_The deployed:_

Padme Amidala sat on the balcony and watched the sun set. Anakin had been away two months now, on some star-forsaken planet saving other people, promoting peace, trying to make somewhat of a difference. Padme would be proud, and honored, even, if it were not war. Why had they gone straight to war? Why had not there been any diplomacy, and no sort of negotiations. Sure, there was Geonosis… Still, didn't they know what war did to people? What it could do to _him_? what it had done to her and thousands out there like her? _Didn't you ever stop to think before you started screaming for blood? Because you aren't only spilling the blood of the Separatists, but of the deployed, too._

_The Man:_

Jedi Master Yoda stood sentinel as another body burned on the funeral pyre. Just another Jedi to the media, but a dear friend to Yoda. He had watched Jyrl as a youngling, had seen the young Knight grow, had encouraged his potential, and had smiled at the curious boy's insistent questions. He had a scientists' mind, Jyrl. The universe thought of the Jedi somewhat how they thought of the clones, barring some more fear and resentment. They thought of them as expendable and submissive. The Jedi will do whatever the senate tells them. At least you cannot fault a clone for doing what it was programmed to do. Yet you can fault the _thing _that led the clone to slaughter. No one ever stopped to think that the loyal and hopeful _man_ leading had no choice either. It, too, was in their programming.

_The Moralists:_

It had been a long time since Bail Organa saw something like this. Peace between peoples. Actual, true understanding. Two cultures who had the knowledge and knew he reason o join the Republic had nothing to do with political advantage, but with the morals that made democracy what it was. They had taught him much in return with their writings and examples. He was proud to have them in the Republic. He was, and when he left, he journeyed back to Courascant with a renewed spirit in his vigor to win this war. That what they were doing was right, not politically correct, but truly _right _for the people. The people of this planet had taught him that, and really, what could Dooku do to people like these? They were too virtuous to completely annihilated.

Two months later, the Separatists bombed the Capital and left the planet in ashes.

_The Writer:_

Oshella tapped her chin with her pencil and stared out at the sunset from her front porch. Miles away, she could see the outline of droids, hundreds upon thousands of droids and tanks heading their way in the deserted farmlands. She knew what it meant. From the back of their house, her mother and brothers were watching the approaching steam of clones marching to meet the Separatists in a headlong crash. The ground shook, and she dropped her paper and pencil several times. The house she had spent the past sixteen years in was due for destruction soon. There was no running, and it was merely inevitable. They were going to die. Before she died, though, Oshella intended to _finish this_ _novel._ Coming death was a good way to get rid of writers block, she supposed.

_The forgotten:_

"Master," Padawan learner Carendrella Hirsute said to her teacher, staring at the half constructed buildings and ashen markets curiously, everything looked very old here. "Is this _entire planet_ uninhabited?" She wondered. "I wouldn't say that, apprentice," her master, tense shoulders and unfazed face sending waves of unhidden sorrow and pity through the force, which rang with hollow longing, said evenly.  
The ground shook underneath them, the tanks were right on their heels, clones included. "Where is everyone then, master?" She asked. "We've passed hundreds of towns and homesteads, half destroyed. Did the Separatists come here?" She asked. "I don't know, padawan," answered the older. "What culture lived here before?" Caran pressed, unwavering in her search for answers. "No one knows," another riddle.  
"Someone had to have built these buildings," Caran pointed out. "Yes." A grief-stricken silence, where all was revealed. "Master? We don't know anything, do we? These people, what happened to them, who they were…Everything. That data has been lost, hasn't it?" The Jedi sighed and turned, his eyes betraying a deep and profound anger that was not the Jedi Way. "No, Padawan," he hissed. "They have not been lost, only forgotten."

_The mothers:_

"No, you can't take my child!" The woman screamed, hugging her bundle close. The Jedi stood above her shivering form, face contorted into passive but sincere worry. "He is force sensitive. Force sensitive children have been taken to the temple for thousands of years. You know this. Why don't you want him to go with me?" He asked, bluntly. She reigned in her desperate sobs and clutched her whimpering son tighter. "And what? Let him grow up to lead men to die in this war too? No! You Jedi are warmongers, you are traitors, you are heathens, you are demons and wizards and my son will _not_ be one of you!"

_The Sons:_

"We have just received a confirmation from the Jedi Council that the renowned and esteemed Jedi Master Obi-wan Kenobi was killed in battle today, in an explosion during the battle of…" The ambassador jumped, though none of the clones did, when Anakin Skywalker hurled the newscaster and his blasphemy against the wall. The device crumbled.  
He swiveled to see the young Jedi leaning against the doorway, a look of absolute despair on his face, contradicted only by the look of sheer fury in his eyes. "My master is _not dead_!" He screamed. The hall went silent. "He can't be!" The Jedi repeated. "Please," his eyes took on a faraway look, as he collapsed to his knees right there, still clinging to the door as if it held some sort of anchor. "I-I can't live without him. He just can't be."  
The ambassador shook his head and though he did not remember it, walked up and put a hand on the young boy's shoulder. The Padawan looked up; face tear streaked and eyes begging. "I'm sorry, son," the ambassador whispered, as if he were talking to his own child back home, instead of a half-grown Jedi who, by rumor, were not supposed to feel anything. "But your father's dead."

_The Lost:_

He was so beautiful. And she…She was so ugly. Ventress stared at herself in the mirror, trembling, shaking after her experience with Kenobi. She had never met such a defiant buck before, no one with his cunning, with gentle authority. She had never met anyone so beautiful before. Except for Ky, that was. He reminded her of Ky…Oh, Ky. She remembered him vividly, his smile, his laugh, the way his eyes shone with compassion when he looked at her. Just like Kenobi's did… Ventress smashed a fist into the mirror, and when it shattered, she laughed. She now did not have to look at herself and wonder what Ky would think. She no longer had to face the fact that she was lost.

_The Confession:_

"Master Kenobi, are you alright?" He asked.

"I'm fine senator… just a… Scratch." He gasped.

"What did she do to you?" He wanted to know.

"You…I don't wish to speak of it, actually." He would never say so.

"Oh," He was worried, but said nothing.

"I'm sure you understand." He was bleeding, but kept trying.

"I-I do. Thank you, for…For saving me." He didn't know why he did it.

"It's certainly… No problem…" He didn't see how much this made Bail sick.

"Are you sure you're alright? Do you want me to do anything?" He felt so helpless.

"Ugh…wake me when she…returns," he was so selfless.

"But…Can you take that again?" He wanted to know.

No answer. The room went cold.

"Master Kenobi! Master Kenobi! _Obi-wan_!"

A startled gasp; and muffled cry.

"Bail," something grabbed his hand.

"Yes?" He held on tight.

"I'm not alright."

_The Regretful:_

Mina Bonteri covered her mouth in horror as she was shown an interrogation tape she had hired someone to…Accommodate for her. Behind her, her advisors gasped and wrung their hands uncomfortably. Mina shook her head. She could not believe…How could anyone ever do such a thing? She had not supported this! Dooku did not tell them about_ this_! "This…" her voice cracked as another scream rung the air. "I'm so sorry," she whispered to the suffering clone. "I didn't want this."

_The Saved:_

Bant smiled for the first time in months, almost a year, when she allowed Anakin into the med-bay. "Master!" Obi-wan's eyes moved, and when he caught sight of Anakin, a single arm wobbled from its position at his side and gestured in welcome to the apprentice. "Anakin," he greeted; voice husky through the breathing mask. Anakin catapulted himself at his mentor, and landed virtually in his lap. "Master, master, you're alive, I knew it, I_ knew_ it…" Anakin gasped, kissing the pale, gaunt face repeatedly. Assured that Obi-wan was well under care, Bant chuckled softly, and made a graceful and quiet retreat, leaving them to continue their celebrations in private.

_The old friends:_

"And what exactly did you think you were doing trying to die on us, huh, Kenobi?" Garen Muln demanded, in a rare sort of rage. "That's what I said," Anakin agreed, sitting at his master's side, open arm stretched around Obi-wan's thin shoulders protectively. "We can't even let you alone for five minutes without this sort of thing happening?" Siri agreed furiously.  
"That's what I said," Anakin harrumphed. "You scared half the temple half to death!" Bant accused. "I said that too," Anakin informed them, just as furious. "Not to mention the council, do you realize how badly they grilled me without you there?" Quin-lan added. "That's what I…Well, that happens regularly for me," Anakin said. The other masters turned to him and Quin-lan, annoyed that he had put in something that had nothing to do with the subject. In bed, Obi-wan let out the first laugh in months.

_The battle scarred:_

"Your transformation is done, sir," the addressed patient blearily blinked up a t the droid hovering above him. "What are you standing there for?" he demanded, and discovered that his new voice was low and scratchy. "Go get me a mirror, idiot!" He swiped a clawed hand at the droid, which ducked and hurriedly scuttled away to get him his mirror. The patient swung his new legs from the bed and let out an aching cough. His lungs felt hot and dry in the shelter of his body suit. The droid came back, and handed him the mirror. Snatching it, the old war veteran looked in the opaque surface and chortled at his new reflection. General Grievous was ready for more battle.

_The letter: _

Dear Mr. Dooku,

My mommy used to say that if you just smile and try to be nice to everyone, then the whole universe would be okay. She always said that every day is a good day because you get to share it with lots of other people. She died. Some droids got her. And my daddy left me. Some droids got him too, I think. I live with lots of other kids in a giant building now, and the nice lady gives us food and stuff. I have lots of big brothers and sisters, and get to watch the little babies all the time. They're cute, but I really miss my mommy sometimes. I cry at night because she is not here. The others I live with? The droids got their parents too. All of them. All of us, and now we have nowhere to go, and only the nice lady to take care of us. I guess the droids are yours. Are they yours? That would be cool, to have a bunch of droid friends….Still, I want to ask you something. Mr. Dooku, you used to be a Jedi. Jedi help people, they really are nice, a Jedi saved me. Since you are like them, could you stop telling the droids to kill all of our mommy's please? I miss mine.

_The politicians:_

"We must put in an order for more clones!" Padme sighed and rubbed her forehead. "More fighting! Expand the war!" Of course, they would want to expand a war that was killing thousands by the day, the war that threatened her husband…"We're bankrupt. If we put in an extra order, we must raise the taxes _again_. Half of our population are already struggling!" Bail argued, reverent as ever in his pursuit of justice. "They'll make it! We have to expand the war! Defeat the Separatists. Get new clones!" the cry called out. Padme looked over at Mon Mothma, who was drumming her fingers irritably against her own bulkhead. She caught Padme's glance and sent her a tired grin. "Politicians," she tried to joke, with a shrug. "Yeah," Padme looked down at the arguing rows, ignorant, and bloodthirsty, heartless, greedy and cruel. "Politicians."

_The Promoted:_

"How do you like being a knight by now?" Obi-wan continued; he was literally rocking on his heels, as if waiting for Anakin to speak so he could say something. In reality, Anakin had been looking forward to Obi-wan asking him that, but he had never seen Obi-wan this way. "It's fine. Feels good not to have to walk behind you all the time; and to be called master," he felt his own mouth twitch up in a grin. Obi-wan nodded and folded his hands behind his back. "Yes, I remember the feeling," he said quickly. Anakin couldn't take it anymore.  
"Alright, master, I can see excitement on your face as easily as your beard, what is it?" he asked. Obi-wan chuckled softly and walked around Anakin slowly, a slight bounce in his step as he came to stand on the other side of Anakin.  
"I'm surprised word hasn't already spread," he stated calmly. "Word of what?" Anakin asked, unable to fight the grin that spread over his face. "You know the council has been searching for a new master to sit among them?" Obi-wan asked, his eyes sparkling. Anakin nodded, _everyone _knew that. "Yes, ever since Yaddle died," his grin melted for a moment_._ "Well, they have chosen," Obi-wan continued after a sorrowful silence; he remembered it, too. "So?" Anakin wondered. Obi-wan only smiled, his eyes twinkling with teasing. Anakin sighed. "Wait…" It couldn't be. "They chose you, huh?" He asked. Obi-wan nodded quickly, his eyes flashing with delight and pleasure. Anakin felt his own eyes widen.  
"But…." He sputtered, shock and pride fought for control of his actions. "But doesn't that make you…" he couldn't even finish. A new feeling crept its way among pride and shock, and it was disappointment. He had gotten to be on level ground with Obi-wan for a mere week. And now the man out-ranked him again.  
"The youngest person to ever be elected to the council?" Obi-wan finished, he cocked his head, pretending to think. "Hmm," he glanced at Anakin. "I suppose it does," he agreed. Anakin laughed, and couldn't control his burst of excitement and pride. "Master, that's great! Congratulations!" He cried.

_The Expendable:_

"The death tally of Jedi for today includes Jedi Knight Niro Clache. Jedi Master Fr'opt Dune. Jedi Padawan Levela Pluto. Jedi Knight Siri Tachi…" Beru turned the reporter off. Owen looked up, surprised. It had long been a habit to listen to the morning announcements. But Beru was tired of the announcements. She said nothing as she carried a tray over and sat his breakfast down in front of him. Owen ignored it, instead watching her worriedly. Owen broke the silence immediately.  
"What's wrong?" Beru took her own seat, not looking up. "They say it like it's just another piece of daily news. Like it's the weather. Those people _died_ trying to defend the Republic," she scoffed angrily. "Those_ Jedi_ died because the Senate told them too. They _choose_ to do this, Beru," Owen reminded her. "But what if they had people who cared about them? People who_ loved_ them?"  
"You know Jedi don't love," Owen reminded her, taking sip of his water. "Anakin did," That quieted them. They never spoke of Anakin much. "Tell you this, I bet nobody loved or cared about anyone of them. The Knights, the Padawans, or the Masters. Even the Jedi treat themselves as disposable."

_The Brokenhearted:_

"Obi-wan, I'm so sorry…" Bant began, wishing to reach over and comfort her friend. "_Pregnant,"_ Obi-wan whispered, slumped over in the chair. She saw a tear fall from the tip of his nose and hit the floor. "S-She was pregnant. Are you sure it was mine?" Bant wondered who else it could have been, but nodded anyway. "Did a DNA scan. It was yours," Obi-wan let out a sob. Bant stayed rooted to the spot, helpless against this onslaught of angst. In the end, she saw nothing left to say but the truth. "It would have been a girl."

_The Lovers:_

Jedi Master Koth waited, nearly jumping on his heels as he surveyed the area around him. It was deserted here, and hollow, like his heart when she wasn't here. Underneath the Jedi temple were hundreds upon hundreds of labyrinths, created for a purpose long forgotten, but never underestimated. Now, it was a cave for lovers to meet. She was coming home today, back to Courascant. He could feel it in his bones…In the force, more appropriately. "I told you not to wait for me," he smiled, but did not turn, wanted it to be a surprise when he saw her again. "And I told you that I've already waited half a year. Hello, Adi," he breathed. She moved around to stand before him, hands running over his chest. Adi Gallia chuckled deeply in her throat, dark brown eyes as hard as Mace Windu's. "Hello, you Gundark," she purred. He laughed before he caught her lips in a soft kiss of reunion.

_The Knighted:_

"Missing me already, master?" Anakin Skywalker teased. Obi-wan chuckled and looked up. "Of course not. The second your knighted, I intend to have a party myself, to celebrate _my _new freedom," he told him. Anakin might've felt a bit of hurt if he weren't in such a good mood. "Ah, master, that hurt my feelings. Speaking of which, is there a way to say 'good riddance you boring old buzzard, I am finally free!' respectfully when I give my speech tonight?" he wondered. Obi-wan, surprising him, chuckled softly. "No, Anakin, there is not. Boring old buzzard, indeed," he cocked an eyebrow. "Come eat, before I follow my very strong impulse to poison your food," he said. Anakin laughed and slipped into his seat at the bar, forgetting that for a moment, he had considered telling Obi-wan that even if he was not missed, Anakin would certainly miss his boring old buzzard of a master.

_The Husband:_

"Bull's-eye….Who is this?" With a strangled gasp, Bull's-eye swiveled around to see his brother standing in the doorway, mouth agape. Quickly, he grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around his waist. His partner below him let out a tiny squeak and quickly grabbed her robe on the bedside table, throwing it over herself to hide her nakedness. "Dinger! What are you doing here? How did you find me?" He began, stuttering, at a loss. "_Who is this_, Bull's-eye?" Dinger ground out between clenched teeth, his eyes filled with rage and confusion. After all, Bull's-eye had faked his own death not even four months ago. The woman beneath him had done likewise. Bull's-eye looked down at his mate, then back up at his brother. "I…" up at the enraged eyes, then down at the frightened pupils. "I…Dinger," he sighed in defeat. "This is my wife, meet Jedi Padawan Levela Pluto."

_The Apprentice:_

"My name is Ahsoka, Ahsoka Tano."

_ The Villain:_

Chancellor Palpatine stared out at the twirling nighttime lights of Courascant, all below him like a carpet of infrastructure. Somewhere in those endless street cars and fraying people was another dead Jedi. He had made sure of that. He smiled, acidly. The Jedi were soon scheduled to fall.

_The Cheeky:_

"Well," Ahsoka gasped as they dove behind a rock, Rex and the others on their heels. Anakin gazed up at the massive structure currently shooting down at their undefended heads. "This is a very_ fine_ mess you've gotten us into," she said sarcastically. Anakin's battle mind was interrupted temporarily by indignance. "What?" He demanded, twirling. "Hey! This isn't _my_ fault, you were supposed to read the holo-map!"  
He accused in return, then had to duck as a bomb sent bits of sharp rock and metal flying. "I _did_!" Ahsoka screeched, her large predatory eyes flashing. "Remember? When I reminded you about the _giant wall_," she pointed at the giant wall currently killing off most of their troops. "But you said 'don't worry, Snips, we're not going to be anywhere near that'!" Again she gestured to the giant wall they were near. Anakin sighed in exasperation. "Whatever! Just get ready to climb!" he shouted back.

_The Massacre:_

Grievous laughed as the last head rolled upon the ground, separated from its owners' body. He surveyed the damage done to the people around him and nodded with approval. These Jedi lightsabers were coming in handy. "Burn the town to the ground and then keep moving!" he screamed to the troops behind him. Without waiting for an affirmative, he led the way out of the vacant settlement.

_The Untruthful:_

"Master Windu! Master Windu! What can be accounted for all the casualties at last week's battle?" Journalist Amber Kenarvi called to the Jedi on the podium. He then recoiled, regretting that the Jedi had decided to answer his question, because he _looked_ at him. It was not a friendly look, rather cold and hard, and…desolate. Amber suddenly felt like he was staring into the soul of a dead man. However, Master Windu was still live. It was an unnerving thought. "The casualties are mostly battlefield injuries," was the calm answer. Amber felt a chill run up his spine and knew without being told, that this as the biggest lie the Jedi master had ever told. Though, he only wrote down the Jedi's words. After all, what the public didn't know wouldn't hurt them.

_The Temple:_

It seemed to Garen Muln that every time he stepped foot inside the temple, it seemed darker. The shadows hung more heavily on the walls, and the force did not dance and twirl like a joyful child, but merely flowed like a constant air circulator. The bags under the Master's eyes signified the burden placed on them. The dark shadows in the Knight's eye showed what they had lost. The unsmiling faces of the Padawan's showed what they had seen. The dulling enthusiasm of the younglings foreshadowed what could happen to them all. After awhile, Garen just stopped coming into the temple at all.

_The Weary:_

"Honey, I'm home!" Kena called into her house. Rubbing at her eyes, blurry after two shifts of working at the weapons factory, she continued into the kitchen. "In here, sweetie!" her husband replied, just as she emerged into the kitchen. He turned, a smile on handsome features, then noticed her expression and hurried to ease her into a seat. "What is it?' he asked. Kena sighed and slumped, putting her elbows on her knees. "I have to start working triple shifts now," she replied. His features-blurry as they were- creased with a scowl of distress. "What? Why? Are you getting raise or something?" he asked. Kena shook her head, suddenly dizzy. "Nah," she whispered softly. "Juk-ho isn't there anymore to do it. And boss needs me," she explained. "What happened to Juk-ho? He got fired?" Her husband inquired worriedly. "No. A stray blaster bolt from a Jedi chase caught him in the heart. He's dead."

_The Loveless:_

Cad Bane chewed his bottom lip, worrying at it. He had just gotten done with a prostitute. For some reason or another, whenever he did that he started thinking of _her_. She was gone, though, and what about that ingrate had reminded him of her? Whatever reminded him of her? _ "Cad! Cad you old fool!"_ He closed his eyes and exhaled. Maybe it was the lady's eyes. They had been gray, just like…No, he wouldn't think of it. He didn't love nothing or nobody.  
Nobody loved him; not anymore. It didn't work like that for him anymore_. "You aren't anything but a scoundrel, Cad Bane. A piece of good-for-nothing,"_ he chuckled softly. "Nothing but you, girly," he mumbled. He could see her smile in his mind. For a moment he basked in the brilliance of her memory, damn, how he had loved that woman…That was why he had stabbed her. He didn't love anything or anybody. He just… Couldn't afford to love; not anymore. Not since the Clone War.

_The Resolute:_

Their goodbye was brief, short, and bold, yet to someone who knew them, he could see the pain in their eyes. Both of them so hated goodbyes. "I'll see you in a few weeks Snips," Anakin assured her, placing heavy hand on her shoulder. The padawan nodded, her face brave, but he could sense her spirit wavering in the force. She was afraid. This was her first mission alone. Obi-wan remembered the apprehension one felt in your gut, the nagging feeling of "_what if_…."  
Jedi did not deal in absolutes. Even if the Jedi Padawan in question was too young to take on this assignment alone, even if her master had already lost too much and too many to death and Obi-wan knew he couldn't lose another, even if the force trembled under the weight of their combined hope that a few weeks did not turn into forever. All of these were what if's though, and in a Jedi's life they should not matter. They always did. Yet in the face of a challenge, all they could do was remain resolute.

_The Deceased:_

"Master Jocasta?" She looked down at the small youngling waiting at her feet expectantly. Jocasta Nu nearly tripped over her own feet. That face was so familiar; it reminded her of another face, many years ago, that had come to her…No. That Knight was dead. Three years dead, truly. "Yes, young one?" She inquired, kneeling down to the five-year-olds level. Force, they were just the same. Jocasta was left wondering if this were some sort of vision or reincarnation of Siri Tachi. Striking blonde hair, two tiny freckles on either cheek, large aqua eyes…  
_ No. Siri is dead._ Jocasta sighed. "Is there a book on birds?" the youngling asked her, large innocent eyes betraying only an eagerness for knowledge. "Birds? Good heavens, what do you need to know about birds for?" She chuckled softly.  
"Cause I bet my friend Onen that the indigenous species on Alderran were faster than the ones bred on Datooine. Now I have to prove it," she told her. Jocasta stared, blinking. She could just hear it… _"Because I bet my friend Obi-wan that the indigenous species on Ryloth were faster than the ones bred on Rodia. Now I have to show the bantha head whose right,"  
_ "Master?" she blinked, and suddenly she was in the present moment again. Siri was dead. This youngling needed a book. Numbly, Jocasta nodded, and led the way for a new generation.

_The Duchess:_

"I sense some anxiety from you about the Duchess. She couldn't be in safer hands,"

"Yes, yes, I know,"

"Then why…?"

"Never mind, it's all in the past."

"Oh? So you're close to her?"

"I_ knew_ her…A long time ago."

_ The friend:_

Captain Typho had no clue why he continued to do this for Padme. Sure, he was oath bound to protect her, but did he really have to stand outside her door without anything better to do? Was it truly necessary to waste his time this way? He sighed, and dipped his head in light greeting s General Skywalker strolled past him into the room, with a soft murmur of greeting. The Jedi was one of the only ones allowed to walk in and out at his leisure. Typho had no clue what they did in there, but he knew that even if Padme did not ask this of him; he would have done it anyway. For all he might grumble, friends had each other's backs, deep into the dead of night.

_The Teacher:_

"Come on Snips, you can do better than that. I feel like I'm fighting Ventress here, and you can't possibly be _that _incompetent…Oh, that made you mad, didn't it?" Anakin teased as his Padawan twirled around him, attempting to land a killing blow with her saber. Anakin, using his natural talent of raw muscle and strength, easily evaded her attacks.  
Ahsoka, who had been trying to metaphorically kill Anakin for the past two hours clenched her teeth and crouched before him, fluid body tensed, large eyes calculating. Suddenly, she grinned. "Master, did you know that you're starting to grow a beard like Obi-wan?" She asked, impishly. Anakin's mouth dropped in horror. "I am not!" he gasped, already rummaging through his survival belt to find something with a shiny surface. He could not be…  
"Hey!" he gasped as suddenly a small and slender boot was atop his chest, restraining him. A green saber was centimeters from his nose. "Cheater," Anakin huffed, crossing his arms. Ahsoka grinned. "I learned from the best," she agreed.

_The flatterer:_

"Anakin, I am simply amazed at your skill. Tell me again, what did the council say?.. .No deep congratulations? No reward?...What of Master Kenobi? Hmm, out of contact, that is irregular for him. Oh, I suppose he'll be fine, and proud of you when he returns…Back to you, though, for doesn't he get the praise continually. Now, tell me the entire story again…"

_The Traitor:_

Count Dooku growled, tapping his fingers on his desk quietly. His master had demanded that he have the death Star plans delivered back into his rightful possession. But why? Dooku was perfectly capable of defending them himself. There was not yet a Jedi who could defeat him. After all, their Order consisted of liars and weaklings. Dooku was glad he was not among their ranks any longer, shackled to obedience by the light. Only the dark gave true freedom.

_The Candle:_

There was something shining. The six year old could see it in the lightless night. This place was one of the only that wasn't forbidden by the council, but the force restrained all those who weren't allowed in its mind. For some reason, she was allowed. Master Kenobi seemed to be allowed, too, because he was kneeling on a gravestone. This was the cemetery, where the ashes of fallen Jedi were buried. It stretched on a long ways, hundreds of ancestors along the paths, but he knelt by this one, hands on his knees, a small candle emitting what little light there was before him.  
His eyes were closed, and she could feel him calling the force, slowly, as if he were afraid of it. She glanced down at the gravestone he was sitting by. _Tahl Uvain. _Who had she been? Deftly, the six year old stayed well hidden behind the bench, sensing that master Kenobi probably wanted to be alone for a _reason_. Then softly, Master Kenobi recited the words that had been drilled into her years earlier.  
"There is no emotion, there is peace," he whispered, eyes closed. "There is no ignorance, there is knowledge," she whispered with him, closing her own eyes. "There is no passion, there is serenity," they said in unison, like Good Jedi. "There is no chaos, there is harmony," she inhaled, knowing what came next, and unknowing why his voice cracked as he said it. "There is no death; there is only the force," and the air seemed to capture the words around them, and as it did, the candle burned brighter

_The family:_

"Ta'lil, fire when ready," his father called. Ta'lil aimed his blaster towards the Jedi walking below them. He wanted the girl… The shot ricocheted, but that was expected, Jedi were quick, and knew about things before they were bound to happen. Bounty hunters knew this. "Shilo, your turn sweetie," he glanced at his older sister beside him. She nodded and put her mouth to the toxic dart canister. With a deep inhalation, she blew. It hit the oldest one in the neck.  
Jedi master Shaak Ti collapsed. One down, two to go, and they were ready. Back to back, lightsabers raised, eyes searching for the hidden enemy. Ta'lil knew they would not be found. "Here we go," next came their mother, a flame-thrower slung across her shoulder. With that brilliant smile of hers, she pulled back the lever.  
Ta'lil heard a distorted scream from the Knight. Luminara Unduli was down, clutching at her burning robes with clenched teeth. "Go get her, dad," Shilo beckoned to their father, who chuckled and came to stand beside their mother. "Sleep tight, little one," a stun blaster caught the girl straight in the face. She never saw it coming. Ta'lil chuckled softly. Three Jedi in barely three minutes. They were_ good_. "Alright," their father grunted as they stood, grinning at the catch of a lifetime. Dooku would pay them _triple _for this. "Let's pick em' up. Good work family."

_The Pills:_

"It is quite a dilemma," Mace agreed, shaking his head ruefully. Yoda grunted beneath them. "Triple the amount than _you_, I have," he pointed out, acidly. "Soon I'll have twice the number of yours, Master Yoda," Master Piell chuckled, though there was no real laughter in his voice. "I wonder what _else_ will ache by the end of this lifetime," Master Plo philosophized. The four masters chuckled darkly, qwalking through the abandoned halls of the once lively temple.  
"Does anyone actually take those?" Mace wondered curiously. "When I remember," Piell snorted. "The force, only pill I need," Yoda harrumphed boastingly. "Bant will have a cardiac arrest if she hears that, Master Yoda," Plo snickered. "Then give her a pill, we should," that caused a tiny ripple of unfamiliar laughter to ripple amongst them, then they turned sober again, each remembering a time long ago, when indeed, the force _was _the only sort of medication they needed. Before the Clone War.

_The dancer:_

Jabba yelled some vulgar praise at her, clapping his hands with the rest of the party. She twirled and raised her arms high, trying to seem graceful with limbs heavy with exhaustion. She had been dancing on this blasted chain the whole night. She would probably dance an entire other night as well. "More! More!" Jabba jeered, tugging at her chain. With a sigh, the dancer nodded and began her routine again, wondering why one moment she had been a happy farmer's wife on Ryloth, and now, village destroyed by droid armies, she was a slave in Jabba's palace.

_The worried:_

"What is the tally now? The sixth time I've saved you, master?" Anakin asked as Obi-wan limped back aboard the ship, insistent that he was fine, Anakin tried to joke to drown out his worry. Obi-wan was deadly pale, and his face had broken out in sweat. He couldn't keep going much longer. "Only because I was trying to save you, my foolish young friend," Obi-wan slurred back, without any real bite. Anakin moved forward when he stumbled, but Obi-wan waved him away. "I'm fine, Anakin, stop fussing," he ordered. "I'm not _fussing_," Anakin replied, cringing when Obi-wan leaned against the wall, letting out a raucous cough. Blood dribbled out of the side of his mouth. He was fast enough thankfully, to catch his old teacher when Obi-wan finally collapsed into his arms. Anakin sighed, and wrapped his arms around the barely breathing man. "I'm just worried about you," he finished.

_The helpless:_

"There was nothing you could have done, Ahsoka."

"Yes there is,"

"Snips…"

She walked away. "I could have been stronger."

_The Victorious:_

"We did it Blazer! We did it!"

"Run while you can, seppies!"

"See ya later, clanker!"

"Whoo hoo!"

"Hey, quiet down, quiet down!"

"What, Blazer?"

"Has anyone seen the General?"

"He was right behind us a minute ago…"

"Someone go check!"

"Never mind, I found something,"

"What is it?"

"His lightsaber."

"A Jedi never drops his saber on purpose…"

"Where's the rest of him?"  
"When I know I'll tell you, boys. Let's move out."

_The Kidnapped:_

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have just received_ live_ footage! The Chancellor has been kidnapped by General Grievous!"

_The Heroes:_

"Anakin, let's be fair. This time you were the hero, and you deserve your glorious day with the politicians," Obi-wan gestured to the throng of people that neither of them liked. Anakin smiled, looking in the direction the others were going. _I'm gonna get you for this, Obi-wan. _"Alright," he said reluctantly. Perhaps he would get a chance to see Padme again.  
"But you owe me one, and not only for saving your skin for the tenth time," he reminded his former teacher, a glint in his eyes. Obi-wan rolled his eyes, and Anakin could see him holding back indignance. "Ninth time," he scoffed. "That situation on Cato Neimodia, that…That doesn't count," the both looked down, and shivered. Blasted gundarks, man… "Anyway," Obi-wan waved. "I'll see you at the briefing, hero."

_The insomniac:_

Ani never had been able to get any sleep. Padme sighed and settled into bed worriedly, trying not to let him sense that his dream worried her just as much as it did him. Anakin couldn't lose another person he loved. Neither of them slept that night.

_The lost friend:_

She sat down at the small table, alone, and gave a lopsided grin to the imaginary persona cross form her. It was altogether droll on Shili. Ahsoka sighed and played with her food. "I miss you Sky-guy," she muttered, and almost heard him whisper it back. If only he were there.

_The childish:_

"Come here Obi-wan," Anakin beckoned, a smile playing on his face. Obi-wan backed away steadily, not liking that smile. "Anakin…" he said. "Come on, Obi-wan, I'm not going to hurt you," Anakin coaxed, in much too much of a gentle voice. There was something devious in his eyes… "I don't like the way you're looking at me," Obi-wan gulped, truly frightened now. "I just want a hug," Anakin said, poking out a bottom lip as if he were nine again. It brought a weary smile to Obi-wan's face. "We're both too old to be playing these games, Anakin," he pointed out nervously.  
He did not like that playful look in his friend's eye. It meant trouble. "What games?" Anakin inquired innocently. Obi-wan's foot struck a wall. Dead end. Uh, oh. "Now, Anakin, let's think about this…" he began. "_This_ is for leaving me with politicians, _Master _Kenobi…" This was bad. It got even worse when Anakin suddenly wrapped strong arms around Obi-wan in a tight hug, cutting off his air circulation. "Anakin!" he gasped as his feet were lifted off the ground.  
"No fair! Put me…Down!" He squeaked as Anakin buried his face against his chest. "Nope, you're coming with me to Dex's. I'm going to stuff his greasy, unhealthy food down your throat with my bare hands," Anakin chuckled, carting him off. "Anakin, stop it! Don't!" Obi-wan laughed, struggling. "It doesn't really matter if you get food poisoning in the process. A Jedi takes all such scruples with grace and dignity, don't they master?" Obi-wan only laughed. "You're such a child!" He replied breathlessly.

_The Dark:_

"Rise, Lord Vader, master of the Dark."

_The ending announcements:_

"We have just received news people; that the Supreme Chancellor has declared that the war between the republic and the System of independent nations is at an end! The Clone War is over! The Chancellor has urged us not to be afraid if we see the smoke rising from the Jedi temple. A youngling mishap has killed many of the Jedi. And due to surprising evidence that the Jedi were traitors, the others around the universe have been officially eradicated. All Jedi are now traitors to the Empire, and to be reported at once to your local Stormtroopers. After four years, ladies and gentlemen, we have _peace_!" Ben Kenobi turned off the data pad; he just turned it off.  
He used the force too, with a simple flick of his wrist; the terrible lies were stowed away into oblivion. Let the rest of the universe celebrate; Ben needed to mourn now, before his journey began. He looked down at Luke, sitting in a bundle in his lap and shook his head_. Oh, Anakin._ Quietly, the exiled Jedi master pressed Luke against his chest and wept. The Clone War was over, and he had lost everything.


End file.
